electrostatic
by chokecherries
Summary: <html><head></head>Sam Manson isn't your atypical seventeen-year-old teenage girl, and for some reason the illusive Phantom has taken an interest in her. Things only get weirder when she accidentally stumbles upon thirteen-year-old Dani Fenton who has apparently left home in search of her older brother who's been missing for six months.—danny/sam</html>


**notes: **my best friend babysits this kid after school and she only refers to him as 'the little one.' it's funny. **  
><strong>**disclaimer: **own nothing**  
><strong>**summary: **(au) Sam Manson isn't your atypical seventeen-year-old teenage girl, and for some reason the illusive Phantom has suddenly taken an interest in her. Things only get weirder when she accidentally stumbles upon thirteen-year-old Dani Fenton who has apparently left home in search of her older brother who's been missing for six months.

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...

.:**one**:.

the ghost boy

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...

(_we rattle this town, we rattle this scene_)

Sam Manson believed in a lot of things.

Like vegetarianism—because animal cruelty was _wrong, _and how could people eat anything with a face _anyway_? She still believed that shooting stars could grant wishes, that most of the jocks at her school were major douchebags, that two wrongs don't make a right, that gardening was relaxing and rejuvenating, that Star had been trying to copy off her tests during AP Chemistry the past week or so, that a good book was much better than a party, that the moment she got home, her mother would meet her at the door with a platter full of chocolate chip cookies that would act as a bribe so that maybe she might go shopping with her.

Honestly, she blamed the star thing on the small part of a very, very young Samantha Manson that was still embedded deep within her heart. The five-year-old little girl who was still different than most children, who wanted to be the damsel that saved herself, but still believed in unicorns and love at first sight and flaming comets that granted the deepest desires of little girls. It was so stupid, not logical in the least, and yet she wasn't ever able to really let that belief go.

She didn't know why her blonde classmate was even in an advanced class if she couldn't keep her grades up on her own. Maybe if she was a different person, she would offer to tutor the other girl. But she wasn't, and there was no way she was going to let Star cheat off of her. She wouldn't tell—at least she was that nice—but she wouldn't let the situation continue either. There would be no confrontation, she would just simply shield her papers from prying eyes.

And her mother, Sam let out a sigh just _thinking _about her. She wasn't all that bad, really, they just shared different opinions on things. They'd been pretty close when she was a little girl, but had drifted apart when Sam turned twelve. The Mansons were a wealthy family, and her parents had taken a lot of business trips during her adolescent years. She'd stayed behind with her grandmother—who seemed to understand her more than anyone, really—while her parents were off traveling the world and securing business deals.

She wasn't bitter about it, she wasn't bitter about much, actually. Her parents just hadn't been present in most of her teenage life, and that was that. But when she turned sixteen, they'd returned, and that's when things started to go south. Her mother hadn't been there during her personality change—she'd always been a bit on the sarcastic and snarky side, but it had only grown—and they'd clashed. There had been arguments, threats of running away, and a lot of door slamming. But finally, after a couple of months things had calmed down. She realized that her mother only wanted what was best for her, and because they were so different it was a bit hard to see at times, but the older Manson woman only meant well.

So even though they didn't see eye-to-eye on matters all the time, they managed to get along fairly well. And it was nice, really, to have a mother who cared. Even if she was a bit eccentric and old-fashioned. She wasn't one to complain—okay, so _maybe she was_, but not about these things—but it was nice to have people who cared for her in general. She wasn't exactly the most popular girl in Casper High, and any popularity she may have had, no matter how small, probably disappeared completely after she'd released the frogs being held for experimentation in Biology class last week.

Really the only friend she had was Tucker Foley—a complete science geek and technology nerd she'd known since kindergarten. They were a weird pair for sure, but he was her best friend. And a total carnivore, but she chose to ignore that small fact. Most of the time.

She was kind-of-friends with Valerie Grey, the ex-popular who occasionally disappeared from school completely on some days. Valerie was, well, cool. She was friendly, fashionable, and smart, not to mention Sam's lab partner, which was how the two became acquainted in the first place. But she acted kind of weird from time to time—like her mind was somewhere else entirely, and sometimes when she barely made it to class before the bell, her posture was tense and her eyes hard, or she looked completely exhausted.

Sam wondered, sometimes.

Another thing the seventeen-year-old believed was that the strange things going on in Amity Park were being caused by something unnatural. It sounded ridiculous, sure, but crime had increased drastically in the past few months—robberies with absolutely no evidence, odd cases of vandalism, attacks, sometimes murders—and the police had nothing. No fingerprints, no leads, no suspects, nothing.

The dark-haired girl huffed and watches as her visible breath dissolved into the unusually cold October air. She stuck her hands further into her coat pockets and nodded at the only other person out on the streets. He nodded back, and then stepped inside what was presumably his apartment. To be fair, it was after eleven, freakishly cold, and creepy things had been going on late at night in the city. She didn't blame anyone for wanting to stay warm and safe inside their homes.

In fact, the only reason she was even out this late was because she'd gone to a late showing of a movie with Tucker. It was some horror flick with surprisingly good special effects, but an unsurprisingly bad storyline where the characters made the same dumb decisions that ended up getting them killed by a maniac with an ax. Tucker had almost lost his dinner _and _the enormous container of popcorn he'd somehow managed to inhale before the movie even started, and even she'd been a little unsettled by the whole thing. Surprisingly good special effects and graphics also meant shockingly realistic death scenes.

She made a noise in the back of her throat and suddenly wished that she'd taken Tucker up on his offer to walk her home. Though he'd looked more scared than she'd probably ever seen him—maybe excluding that one time in fourth grade and the incident with the exploding toaster—when he'd offered, and so she'd insisted, just like she always did, that she was a big girl and that she would be just fine on her own.

He'd looked relieved, and she thought that she'd done the right thing. Now though, she wasn't so sure that her choice was for the best. _Think positive things Sam_, she shook her head, violet eyes darting around the empty streets. She wasn't really scared _per se, _just cautious. That was all, she reassured herself, she was just being cautious. She wasn't afraid of anything looming in the shadows, waiting to reach out and snatch her up as soon as she got close enough.

A quick glance at her watch informed her that she _was _going to miss her Friday movie night curfew if she didn't pick up her pace. She walked faster, the wind whipping her hair about her as she jogged down the sidewalk. Her thoughts strayed back to the mysterious happenings going on all throughout Amity. The owner of her favorite Goth bookstore, Tabitha, had been arranging potted blood blossoms in her window when she'd last visited on Wednesday. Sam knew what they meant, and when she'd asked Tabitha about them, she had just said that it was better to be safe than sorry.

But it was more than just Tabitha and herself that believed someone or some_thing _was terrorizing the city and wreaking havoc. Maybe there were multiple somethings, maybe it was just one, but _whatever it was _lurked about Amity, doing heaven only knows what at unheard of hours of the night. Possibly during the day too, she didn't know.

And it was somehow able to commit crimes without leaving any physical evidence. Now, Sam didn't exactly believe in supernatural things, not really, especially not ghosts. In fact, she actually kind of liked visiting cemeteries and looking at the tombstones. Not that she particularly liked death, that wasn't it; she just liked to visit the graves sometimes, specifically the older ones—the overgrown, broken ones that had been assaulted by the weather for so long that she often had to run her fingers along the cool and rough stone just to make out the faded carvings. She liked to remember that they'd been alive once, she liked to bring flowers and leave them there, all for the sake of just remembering them. They'd been important to someone, once, and if they weren't around anymore then she'd just take their place.

Maybe deep in her heart she believed that there might be ghosts out there. But as of now, she wasn't entirely convinced. They could just as easily be figments of people's wild imaginations getting the best of them in their weak state, after all there wasn't any concrete evidence that they existed.

Sam took a quick peek at the time again and groaned. There was no way she was going to make it at this rate. She blamed it solely on the four blocks of construction she'd had to bypass earlier, and maybe her mom and dad would understand if she just explained the situation to them. It wasn't like she stayed out past her curfew intentionally or that it'd happened several times before. But, she was also tired and even though her parents were relatively understanding people, she didn't want to see the disappointed and worried looks on their faces when she walked through the front door after midnight.

She stopped for a moment and glanced around, noticing a few more people still out in this area of town. Finally, her eyes landed on a shortcut she and Tucker used to get to Nasty Burger from her house sometimes. She'd been through it countless times before, so there was no need to worry. However, all those times had been during the day, where it was at least light outside. Now the alleyway loomed before her, dark and foreboding.

But it would save her at least five minutes, and that was precious time. It she just had that five minutes, then she could probably cut across another two blocks into the residential area and make it home with two minutes to spare. Her amethyst gaze flickered from the lamp-lit street she was on to the black alley a few times and she bit her bottom lip.

So against her better judgment and the little voice in the back of her mind begging her not to enter, she crossed the street and slipped into the alley. It'd looked dark from the sidewalk, but being in it was different. It was almost pitch black, and the darkness consumed her, its wispy fingers clumsily clinging to her skirt, pulling at the edges of her coat, and twirling her hair as she ran. The sound of her combat boots pounding against the gravel and cracked pavement thundered in her ears, and her breath was reduced to short huffs and sharp inhales.

Maybe she would have made it if she hadn't hesitated at the thought of going in, or maybe if she hadn't entered the alleyway at all, but the next thing she knew was that something was floating before her, and a malicious grin with gleaming white fangs glinted in the moonlight. She screeched to a halt, almost losing her balance and toppling over onto the ground, and stared up in horror. It let out something of a maniacal cackle and that was the moment that Sam decided to abruptly turn on her heel and bolt back in the direction in which she'd come. She spared a quick glance behind her, and saw flashing red eyes getting closer.

Okay so, maybe there was a great possibility that ghosts were real. And one was currently after her.

She never really excelled in the athletics department—but she was way better than Tucker, _good grief he was out of shape_—but somehow she willed herself to run faster. It could've easily been the adrenaline, because she really didn't want to die like those idiots in the movie she'd seen earlier that night. If only she could reach the street, reach other people then maybe—

Her hopes were cut off as she a blast of something bright and dangerous nearly took her head off. It hit a dumpster and promptly began to dissolve the rusty metal, and Sam spun around to face her attacker. Her eyes were wide and it seemed to revel in her fear, because the terrifying expression on its face only grew and it laughed again, something hollow that echoed off the walls and made her insides churn.

"_Going somewhere, little mortal girl_?"

There was a chance she could lose the food in her stomach too.

It grinned back at her, a sickly shade of pale blue and a wispy something trailing behind it. It didn't seem to have legs, how nice. But Sam wouldn't be intimidated…well, not anymore than she already was. Standing her ground, she swallowed and steeled her gaze.

"Yeah, actually. Home. I have a curfew to beat, and you're kind of in my way. So, if you would kindly move, that'd be great."

In hindsight, perhaps back talking an unstable, undead being was not the smartest thing to do in her situation. But it made her feel like she had some sense of control. There was also the fact that sometimes she blurted things without thinking them through first.

The reaction was almost instantaneous and probably what she'd been expecting in the back of her mind. Its eyes darkened and the grin on its face dropped. "_Do you even know who you're talking to_? _I could kill you_," it fired another laser of something green and gooey-looking at her as if to prove its point. She collided with the ground to avoid it, and ignoring the stinging pain of her scraped palms and knees in favor of glaring up at her assailant.

"Okay," she ground out, "that was rude."

"Yeah, you heard her. She politely asked you to let her go."

Sam and _it _immediately glanced around, searching for the source of the new voice. It was strange, like it was right in front of them but it held a distinct echo at the same time, almost like the _thing _attacking her. The voice was definitely male though, she decided.

_It _snarled and threw wild glances all around the alley. "_Who are you_? _Show yourself_!"

Sam scrambled backwards in a desperate attempt to get away from the blast of whatever it'd been previously firing at her that _it _was directing her way when something slammed into the monster.

"You'd better do as she says," the newcomer—and apparently the owner of the disembodied voice—growled, "_I _won't be so nice with my _request_."

He was different from the thing that attacked her. She could see a shock of messy pure white hair, he was dressed in what looked like some kind of black hazmat suit instead of tattered clothing, and his skin looked like a normal human's instead of that nasty blue color. And she might have thought he was human too, if he hadn't been holding her attacker in the air five feet above her.

Sam blinked a few times and shook her head.

So yes, apparently ghosts were real, and two of those ghosts were about to duke it out for her right in front of her.

This was not exactly how she'd envisioned her night going when she'd first stepped out of the house earlier that evening.

Ugly, she decided to call it, narrowed its bloodthirsty red eyes and snarled. "_You_," it spat, "_I've heard a lot of unsettling things about _you."

"But you _have _heard of me," the white-haired ghost replied, and though she couldn't see him, she could hear the grin in his voice.

Ugly let out a sound of disgust. "_I had to see it myself, what you're doing. Fighting your own kind, saving those foolish, human _mortals _of all things. What a disgrace._"

He tossed the other ghost into the air and shot him with something green. Ugly shrieked and clutched at its stomach, then raised a hand to retaliate. But the white-headed ghost was faster. He pulled out what looked like a thermos and sucked the other being inside before capping it again. "Yeah, well, I'm not _exactly _like you," he chuckled.

Apparently, he suddenly remembered that he had an audience, and slowly turned to face the girl on the ground. Sam didn't know what other ghosts looked like, as she'd only encountered two in her whole life, and that had taken place only a short while ago. Ugly was, well, aptly named and not something she wanted to ever see again. But _this ghost, _this ghost was undeniably attractive.

Maybe, if Star or Paulina had been with her—not that they would have, since she didn't really get along with any of the popular crowd—they would've described him as 'raging hot' or 'a gift to the world from heaven because just _look at him Samantha he's gorgeous_.'

And while neither girl was with her, she could still easily see how handsome he was. She was a bit disgusted with herself, to be honest, because Sam Manson wasn't supposed to care about boys—besides Tucker, maybe, but definitely not _this way_—or appearances. But really that was in the way back of her mind and the only words really registering right now were limited and composed of _hot damn. _

What struck her most about him was the fact that he had the prettiest green eyes she'd ever seen. Sure they were glowing, but when they locked contact with her own her brain promptly short-circuited.

"Um," she choked out.

He floated down to her and brushed some stray locks of dark hair out of her eyes. "Hey, are you okay? You look a little out of it."

Somehow her brain managed to unfreeze itself and instead of just static, she was able to think. "Y…es. I'm fine," she glanced at the weird-looking thermos. "Uh, thanks for…y'know."

He grinned at her. "Yeah, no problem. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Can't really say the same for you though."

She scowled and crossed her arms. "Right, well, I'd better be going."

Something seemed to register in his mind, because suddenly he was holding a gloved hand out to her. "You said something about a curfew, right? I can fly you home. It'd save you the trouble of walking."

Sam narrowed her eyes. "And how do I know I can trust you?"

It was a good question, honestly. Even though something told her that she would be perfectly safe with him.

"Technically I did _just _save your life," he shrugged, grin never leaving his face, "but apparently that doesn't mean anything to people these days. Especially girls with black hair who wear combat boots and dare to venture out after dark. "

He was also kind of a smartass.

Wonderful.

She feigned a longsuffering sigh and slowly placed her hand in his. "Yeah, and I thanked you for that. But don't you think you should at least take me to dinner or something first? _At least _exchange names?"

Maybe, if he wasn't so pale or dead, he would have blushed. He looked like he was blushing without actually blushing. He coughed. "Uh, yeah. You can call me Phantom."

"Oh," she snorted. "How original. I am amazed at your naming skills, sir. Might I bow and show respect before you, O Great One."

He rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze.

She looked him over once. "Phantom. It fits. Well, I'm Sam and if we're going to leave, we'd probably better do it asap. I'm kind of on a ticking clock here."

Phantom held out a hand. "As you wish, milady."

Sam took his outstretched hand and tried her best not to smile.

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**end notes: **so i was originally going to write this in present-tense but then i was like, "nah, not doing that."


End file.
